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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502728">I'm Here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostChanceTo/pseuds/LostChanceTo'>LostChanceTo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, this was supposed to be part of a larger/longer au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:14:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostChanceTo/pseuds/LostChanceTo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not a warlord,” Drift protested as his fans flipped on. There were already overheating warnings on his HUD. He needed a quick overload but Cyclonus was moving slow. Did he go this slow with Tailgate? “Just a bodyguard. The best bodyguard.” Cyclonus smiled now, vicious, dangerous, and he dropped to his knees.</p>
<p>Drift’s engine dropped into a lower growl, ventilation system stuttering. Cyclonus, huge, noble, intimidating Cyclonus looked good on his knees. He pressed his face to Drift’s crotch, fangs just millimeters from Drift’s panel. Drift snapped it open before Cyclonus could sink those fangs in. Even if Drift kind of wanted him to.</p>
<p>“In the end,” Cyclonus’ voice lowered, “even bodyguards can be warlords.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cyclonus/Drift | Deadlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleBoog/gifts">ToodleBoog</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerkota/gifts">deerkota</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so,,,, this was supposed to be a cydriftwhirl au where roddy/ratchet/tailgate died to kill functionalist primus,,,,, but i've only got the smut written so here</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cyclonus lips hovered over Drift’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a taste,” Cyclonus murmured. Drift’s engine hitched, running hotter with each passing second. Cyclonus was so close. “Just -” He paused and Drift just knew he was thinking about -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They want us to take care of ourselves,” Drift whispered and Cyclonus nodded slowly, “this is a natural thing. My frame is always running hot.” Cyclonus huffed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Little speedster,” he said and finally lowered his head. His lips pressed against Drift’s, finally, finally, the air he cycled through his engine washing over Drift’s frame. Drift shuddered as Cyclonus lowered himself to press all along him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You call everyone little,” Drift said when Cyclonus had raised his head, optics dark. Cyclonus’ lips twitched up in a smirk, not half as vibrant as it had once been, but stark enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cute petname for a cute mech,” Cyclonus said and dragged his claws down Drift’s sides. Drift shifted underneath the sharp edges, too many memories of internal tears and rough alleyway frags pulling at his mind. He focused on the insult. Cyclonus didn’t let up, claws dipping between transformation seams to tug at wires and scrape along sensitive edges. “You pride yourself on being an ex Decepticon warlord.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a warlord,” Drift protested as his fans flipped on. There were already overheating warnings on his HUD. He needed a quick overload but Cyclonus was moving slow. Did he go this slow with Tailgate? “Just a bodyguard. The best bodyguard.” Cyclonus smiled now, vicious, dangerous, and he dropped to his knees.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift’s engine dropped into a lower growl, ventilation system stuttering. Cyclonus, huge, noble, </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimidating </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cyclonus looked good on his knees. He pressed his face to Drift’s crotch, fangs just millimeters from Drift’s panel. Drift snapped it open before Cyclonus could sink those fangs in. Even if Drift kind of wanted him to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In the end,” Cyclonus’ voice lowered, “even bodyguards can be warlords.” Drift shook his head, mouth opening with an answer. His voice glitched out as Cyclonus sunk all the way down. He didn’t have much in the way of oral lubricats, probably because of his lack of cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he made it good. His hands didn’t stop moving, tugging and touching and clawing. The air on Drift’s spike was hot but not as hot as Drift - he shuddered at the cold of it, his own clawed fingers curled around Cyclonus’ horns. Drift’s voice kept glitching, overload warnings popping up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He overloaded with a quiet shout, still struggling to control his volume. Cyclonus helped him through it. Drift didn’t think Cyclonus’ optics moved from Drift’s face, but he could be wrong - he’d spent his overload arched, visual and audio input systems off, clawing at anything he could get his hands on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My little speedster,” Cyclonus said, voice humming with the undertones of his satisfaction. He swept Drift into his arms and carried him over to the berth. Drift stared up at him, eyes wide as Cyclonus settled down at the foot of the berth. He spread his legs, panel sliding open a lot quieter than Drift’s had - but still loud in the silent room. “Up to return the favor?” He didn’t transform out his spike - Drift was presented with a dripping valve.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift nodded and Cyclonus crawled on top of him. Drift hadn’t thought that a couple tons of purple jet could look so alluring. But he’d always been into larger mechs, although Ratchet -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus lowered himself over Drift’s face and Drift took to his valve like a starving mech. Cyclonus’ hips bucked and Drift curled his arms around Cyclonus’ thick thighs. Cyclonus didn’t whimper but his fans picked up a notch. Drift wanted to know what he sounded like when he lost control.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He mouthed at Cyclonus’ exterior node, manually commanding his oral lubricant systems to overproduce. The liquid made the slide of his lips against Cyclonus wetter, sloppier, and Cyclonus’ engine fell into a high pitched whine. He squirmed against Drift as Drift shifted himself down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re good at this,” Cyclonus said, “so good at this.” Drift whimpered as his spike finally twitched in interest. Drift pulled Cyclonus down, restricted what he could see or hear so that all his attention would fall on Cyclonus’ valve. He pressed his tongue into it, slowly, and Cyclonus whined louder. “My good speedster, so good for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift wiggled his tongue in as far as it got and fragged Cyclonus as best he could. One of his servos could just barely reach Cyclonus’ node and he rubbed at it, harsh and insistent. Cyclonus jumped and strained against Drift’s hold, soft murmurs finally escaping Cyclonus’ mouth. Drift squeezed his legs together, electricity building between his mouth and Cyclonus’ valve, between the space between Drift’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus pulled himself off Drift too soon and Drift made a keening noise of loss. Cyclonus didn’t let him wait - he backed up and dropped himself onto Drift’s spike. They both gasped - Cyclonus just about collapsed against Drift’s chest, shaking. Drift’s hips bucked and Cyclonus finally cried out, optics off and mouth gaping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift gathered his strength and flipped them. He hiked Cyclonus’ legs up, one around his waist and the other over his shoulder, Cyclonus bent in half. He pulled out slow and slammed back in, built up a rhythm that had Cyclonus fragged back into the berth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus’s engines let out a shuddering, gasping sound, something grinding up against something else before he settled, the sounds somehow more lewd because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cyclonus </span>
  </em>
  <span>making them, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cyclonus </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he was railing, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cyclonus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cyclonus who was always composed, who’s anguish was palpable from across the room, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cylonus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cyclonus who was everything Drift wanted to be - strong, firm in his beliefs, intimidating but so - so - </span>
  <em>
    <span>so fragging gentle</span>
  </em>
  <span> -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift bent over Cyclonus, fans screaming. This close, he could see the mismatched paint of Cyclonus’ faceplate, the cracked metal around the deep furrows he’d carved into his own skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus was pretty, this close. His optics were hazy, his mouth open and fluid dripping down his chin, the air around him distorted with heat. Primus - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rung </span>
  </em>
  <span>-  he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not many people were allowed to see Cyclonus like this - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Drift </span>
  </em>
  <span>was one of them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus trusted Drift enough to let him see this, see the way his biolights flickered and the way he writhed under Drift, let him hear Cyclonus’ quiet moans and feel the way his calipers clenched down with every thrust and contribute to the growing mess between their legs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was all too much for Cyclonus - it didn’t take long for his optics to turn off, for him to go rigid, his engine roaring high pitched and loud. He didn’t make any other noise - but his mouth hung open - Drift’s attention caught on the sharp ends of Cyclonus’ fangs as overload pulled him over the edge as well, hips spasming weakly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drift had fangs too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled out slowly, watched Cyclonus’ faceplates for any sign of discomfort. His expression had softened, optics only half lit up. He watched Drift’s face as well. Drift lowered Cyclonus’ legs - they were long and heavy and motionless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was Cyclonus basking in his overload? Drift was. He hoped Cyclonus was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gimme a sec,” Drift muttered, casting around the room. He caught sight of a towel hanging on the back of a chair. “I’m gonna wipe you off.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus didn’t visibly or audibly respond, so Drift just walked over and picked up the towel. Cyclonus’ optics faded off as Drift carefully wiped off the excess fluid and coolant off both Cyclonus and himself before dropping the towel in the laundry basket in the corner. He hesitated by the basket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Should he leave? Should he -</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cyclonus stretched out a hand towards him, optics off. Drift took the gesture for the invitation he assumed it to be and clambered back into the berth. Cyclonus pulled Drift close, movements slow and languid and confident. Drift slowly relaxed in Cyclonus’ hold, reveling in the solid warmth of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a long time since the last time someone held him. A long time since he’d allowed someone in the same bed as him. Drift turned in Cyclonus’ arms to press his faceplates up against Cyclonus’ chest, shaking. One of Cyclonus’ clawed hands trailed up his back to cup the back of his helm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Cyclonus said, voice raw. Drift nodded, curling closer. “I’m here.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>might fuck around and write the rest of this au at some point</p>
<p>thanks for reading please consider leaving a kudos/comment &lt;3333</p></blockquote></div></div>
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